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“Lilias looks best,” Grisell mused, and that was true. Lilias was the professional model; Grisell and Susan were only amateurs, yet there was a freshness and frankness about their presentation of the knitwear which shone through and made this catalogue unique.

The film unit had gone off to the coast to take the scenes at Wolf’s Crag, carting most of their props with them, but the interiors at Denham House were still to take, and one final shot on the moor. Some of the glamour and excitement of those past few weeks had departed with Steenie and his ‘gang’ and the dale had returned to its accustomed serenity. No musket-shot or wild bugle note disturbed its calm, and only the odd, lonely horseman rode across the fells.

Max seemed to be avoiding Denham. After their lunch together in the canteen at Elliott’s, Susan did not see him again until the film unit reappeared and Steenie rounded up his extras once more. They shot scenes at the Carse for two days before they came to Denham and the whole place was turned upside down to accommodate cameras, wardrobe assistants, make-up and continuity girls and a host of other people necessary to produce one small scene in the inner hall and staircase.

Steenie buzzed about like an angry bee. Things had gone wrong at the Carse and the weather had been unkind when they had been shooting the scenes on the coast, A thick sea-fret had hung over the cliffs day after day, effective enough for a shot or two of the ancient castle on its rocky promontory but damaging to their schedule when it persisted for over a week, slowing down production and adding to the enormous bill for extras. Steenie, although he was delighted with the interior of Denham House, was also preoccupied with the desire to rush the scenes through and finish the moor sequence while he was at it.

With all the preparations for her son’s christening on her mind, Evelyn did her best to help him. She liked Steenie and was as anxious as everybody else to see the completed film. When she wheeled young Adam out in his pram she took lengthy detours to avoid being within the range of the camera lenses and so spoiling a ‘take’, and when Steenie reached the hair-tearing stage she invited him to tea. Evelyn had a calming effect on everyone these days.

Her son was to be christened on the Sunday morning after the film-makers had left the house, and Steenie did his best to whip up actors and extras to the point of perfection where he could take his final shots on the Saturday afternoon. Richard and Grisell came over from the Carse to watch, and Susan was surprised to see Lilias. She had been given a small part in this final scene, but she seemed wooden and nervous when she went in front of the cameras.

Steenie tore his hair.

“You’re not on a catwalk now, Miss Rutherford!” he kept repeating. “Unbend, and take that silly, false grin off your face! If I could find someone else,” he muttered, glancing in Susan’s direction. “Miss Denham, how about you?”

Susan drew back.

“I wouldn’t be any use,” she protested. “I’m not tall enough, for one thing, and I would have to be wordperfect at this stage—”

“But you know the story back to front,” Steenie reminded her. "You could do it.”

Susan recognised the ugly gleam in Lilias’s eyes.

“Give Miss Rutherford another chance,” she begged. Steenie cast his eyes ceilingwards.

“They’ve had nothing but chances,” he muttered, “and still they look like dummies!”

Max had put in an appearance, standing just inside the double doors leading to the outer hall, and Susan was suddenly glad that she had refused Steenie’s request. How could she have enacted even a minor love scene before his critical gaze? She would have appeared as wooden and unco-operative as Lilias.

It was such a long-drawn-out business waiting for perfection, but Steenie was determined to achieve it even in the smallest scene which might eventually end up on the cutting-room floor. All this concentrated effort for nothing, Susan thought,

“I hope it’s going to be the success the little man deserves,” Richard said, strolling beside her to watch Steenie giving his final instructions to the camera crew. “He certainly works hard at his job, though, for my money, I’d want a better ending to the story than the one he’s got.”

“Poor Lucy, you mean,” Evelyn said as Max came up. “She was a bone of contention, even in Scott’s day, but we have to remember the strict domestic discipline exercised in those days over young people, especially young girls.”

Grisell said with a shrug: “They were far too tame, but I admire the men. Though not silly Lord Ravenswood. He should have galloped down from that crummy old tower of his and made off with Lucy, in spite of her horrible old mother. Like Young Lochinvar!” she added with admiration.

“Lucy Ashton was besieged by circumstances,” Evelyn said slowly. “Edgar of Ravenswood trusted her, and he thought she had let him down. Badly, in fact.”

Max crossed to the fireplace without adding anything to their conversation, and presently he went away, striding down across the sunken garden in the direction of the bridge.

Susan didn’t see him again till the baby was christened. Even the elements seemed to conspire to make it a perfect day. It was warm and sunny, with very little wind and the bees busy in the heather as they set off to walk through the parkland to the village church. In true Scottish tradition, Adam Denham was carried there in the arms of his mother’s closest friend, and Susan’s heart was very full as she took Evelyn’s son from her at the door of the house.

Adam Denham, she thought. Young Adam ! The baby gazed up at her, wrapped in the Shetland christening shawl which could be drawn through the circle of a wedding-ring, the shawl she had worn to her own christening twenty-two years ago.

They went along the riverside by the bridle path and up on to the road where the villagers were waiting for a first glimpse of the new baby and wondering who would be given the conventional ‘christening piece’. Evelyn held out the small parcel with tears in her eyes. She didn’t see whose eager hands grasped it, but she felt that it would be shared.

A few more paces took them to the churchyard gates, where Richard Elliott and his brother were waiting. Grisell was also there.

Surprisingly, Max walked beside Susan towards the church on its raised terrace of virgin rock high above the winding Yair.

“He looks a heavy morsel,” he commented.

Susan’s arms tightened about her half-brother.

“A very precious one,” she said.

The morning service was almost over and they stood in the vestry, waiting to go in. Susan saw Evelyn slip her hand into Richard’s, and he responded swiftly and silently, keeping her fingers imprisoned in his until they filed into the church.

Every pew was full to its utmost capacity. People from each corner of the parish had come to see Adam Denham christened. Susan was aware of Max and then not aware of him as the simple ceremony proceeded to the final blessing. “The Lord bless thee and keep thee; the Lord make His face to shine upon thee and give thee peace.”

Adam Denham! The words ran through the quiet church like the sigh of a breeze or a whisper from a long way off. “The Lord bless thee and keep thee ..."

Evelyn took her child from the minister’s enfolding arms, standing for a moment just where she was, looking: down at him, Then, once more, they were out in the sun, walking slowly between the rows of villagers towards Richard’s waiting car. Susan and Richard shared the back seat with Evelyn, while Max drove and Grisell sat in front with him. She was quieter than usual and noticeably pale.

The small luncheon party which followed at Denham had been chosen by Evelyn to avoid a larger gathering. “Only family”, she had said determinedly. “It’s that sort of day.” But it seemed that the Elliotts were ‘family’, at least as far as Evelyn was concerned, and even Grisell looked pleased by the admission.

Young Adam kept Susan busy. He had a powerful pair of lungs and evidently decided that quiet half-hour in church must be accounted for later. He had also missed his morning outing in the pram, and he let them know about it.

Shortly after two o’clock Max made his excuses, taking Grisell with him in Richard’s car, and Susan took the baby for a walk, leaving Richard and Evelyn alone.

When she returned she half expected them to have news for her, but they were still sitting where she had left them on the terrace, looking contented if not overwhelmingly happy.

One day, she thought, they’ll marry. It can’t be long delayed.

The aftermath of great events is often felt as an odd sort of vacuum, and the days which followed the departure of the film company and Adam Denham’s christening were no exception. Susan worked at the mill from nine until five o’clock, following up the new designs and despatching the revised catalogues to their customers in the knitwear trade and also automatically thinking ahead to the spring.

Yet it was too far ahead to plan with any certainty. Max was an enigma to her, and although she tried to forget about Grisell’s treachery, the younger girl remained a visible thorn in her flesh. It seemed that Grisell was still mainly concerned with her own desires.

Lilias had gone back to Edinburgh with Steenie Armstrong and the film unit, but she was likely to return to Yairborough when the final scene was shot.

The weather turned sour and only Fergus seemed inclined to visit them at Denham House. For the first time in many months he spent an afternoon under their hospitable roof the following Sunday without renewing his proposal of marriage to Susan.

"It’ll soon be the rugger season,” he reflected gloomily. “I don’t think I’ll play this year.”

“What? And disappoint Grisell?” Evelyn was poking fun at him. “She’s quite sure you’re going to look every bit as handsome as Young Lochinvar in your rugger strip!”

Fergus glanced quickly in Susan’s direction.

“Grisell’s too impressionable,” he said without much conviction. “I told her I might not play but we could go to a match or two.”

“She’ll love it,” Susan remarked indifferently, at which he seemed relieved.

“I wish she would get this film thing out of her system/’ he said. “She can’t think of anything just now but doubling for Lucy Ashton in the moor scenes. Have you heard when they’re coming back?”

“Next week,” Evelyn informed him promptly. Evelyn, who knew everything!

“When, exactly?” Susan asked.

“Friday, to get a full day on Saturday. They mean to do the ‘wedding dole’ scenes outside the church—six herrings, a morsel of beef and a sixpence! How’s that for generosity to the needy poor? Steenie wants to get rid of most of his extras before Saturday,” she ran on. “Richard thinks he must be getting budget nerves!”

“That I shall have to see !” Fergus declared. “Irritable, irrational, anxious, perhaps, but never nervous!”

“People don’t always register their emotions openly,” Evelyn reminded him. “Take Max,” she added with some deliberation. “He’s been worried about Elliott’s lately and anxious about other things, too, but he just wouldn’t show it. For Richard’s sake, I expect.”

Susan agreed that Max had every reason to be worried about his niece, if he knew about Grisell, but she could not understand his concern about Elliott’s. It was a thriving business, and surely Denham’s would soon catch up. If he would take her into his confidence more often...

A small, harsh laugh broke from between her lips, making Fergus glance at her in surprise. Evelyn, however, seemed able to read her thoughts.

“We all need each other,” she declared. “Even Max isn’t infallible.”

Fergus rose to go.

“I’ll walk to the stables with you,” Susan offered. Evelyn picked up her mending.

“See you soon, Fergus,” she suggested.

They crossed the hall and went out into a fine smirr of rain which jewelled Susan’s hair with a myriad crystal drops and clung to the downy softness of her cashmere suit. To Fergus, who had already relinquished his fondest dreams, she looked, and still was, wholly desirable.

“You’ve changed your mind,” Susan said when they had reached the stables. ‘‘You’re going to marry Grisell.”

“If she’ll have me.” He kept his hands clenched by his side as he looked at her. “I know I haven’t a chance with you now.”

“No,” Susan said under her breath, “I’ll never change now.”

“I can’t think what you see in him!”

Her startled glance flew to his.

“Max Elliott,” he said.

“There’s nothing—” She clasped her hands together to keep them from trembling. “Nothing between us,” she added.

He looked incredulous as he moved towards his car.

“You wouldn’t think it was just a few months since they first came here,” he said.

“No.”

They stood awkwardly, facing one another.

“I ought to go,” he said at last. “Are you coming up to the peel on Saturday morning?”

“I may do.”

He put out his hand, as if to touch her, and then he draw back.

“I’ll see you there, Susan,” he said.

“Perhaps.”

She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to see the final scene of the film being shot or not. It wasn’t the ending to the Bride’s story—that had been filmed at the Carse long ago—but it was the end of something she had enjoyed. The last act in what had been a happy companionship. She had got on well with Steenie and the camera crews and the script-writers, and the stars had been very pleasant company. The whole romantic interlude had been woven into the pattern of Denham House and the Carse, binding them together, it seemed. Yet probably she would go to see the final act.

It was a bright, clear morning and she rode up to the peel tower early, although not early enough to beat the advance party to their final location on the moor. They had put up at the Hawk and Jesses in the village the night before and everything was ready for the first rehearsal by eight o’clock.

Grisell, in her role of stand-in for Barbara Gresham in the riding scenes, was early on the spot, riding up through the heather on Hope’s Star. It was the kind of horse Steenie needed, sturdy and noble in appearance, with the white mark between the dark, intelligent eyes which had given Hope’s Star her name. Grisell seemed to have little difficulty in handling her now, but the mare put up her head and whinnied when Susan came into view.